Remember

One of my most loved, and at the same time, most hated parts of the experiences I had at Recovery Weeks was the excursion at the end of the week. We were each instructed to find an object that would mark the work that had taken place in our particular stories that week, a gift from Jesus so to speak, to help us remember his extravagant love. We all loaded up in a van for the long drive to a quaint town known as “Little Norway” – the ride there long enough that I was able to retreat into my own thoughts after a polite amount of conversation. As I considered our assignment, I loved the deep meaning, and the hope that Jesus would somehow miraculously help me find the perfect object. And I hated the fear beginning to gather, heavy and hot in my gut – what if I can’t find the right gift? Underneath, what if Jesus doesn’t come through for me, what if I really am not known and loved?

I’d like to say that the second year was better, that my experience of Jesus coming through in a big way that first year was a steady reminder for my heart not to fear. And yet, the truth is my heart knows too much of how risky and foolish it is to trust, to let my guard down. There is a part of me that holds myself separate, protected, sure that my competence will be needed to save this experience from disaster. I walk into the first store, wander among the aisles and glance up at the signs on the walls. My eyes are drawn immediately to the simple, yet bold words.

The woman in me who has come to know something of the wild, but always kind, love of Jesus recognizes his gift. The young girl in me hesitates, too familiar with fear, the constant second-guessing of my knowing – because if no one else believes, it can’t be true, right? Surely it couldn’t be this easy, this good so quickly; it must be my idea, born out of my fear of failure, clearly it couldn’t be Jesus, so I can’t trust it. As I read my own words just now, my heart feels the weight of the bind that I find myself in too often –

I can’t trust myself, and I can’t trust Jesus, so where does that leave me?

I wandered some more that day, but nothing called to me the way those words had at the very beginning. I finally gave up the arguments circling in my head, allowed kindness and love and being deeply known – a miracle – be true. The words hang on the wall in my favorite room, where I love to linger with my husband, coffee, a good book, my journal. And yet, lately, I find myself avoiding them, distracting myself with things less disruptive, the familiar young fear suggesting that miracles are ridiculous, certainly not to be trusted.

And oh, how I love that Jesus knows this about me! I sat in church three weeks ago listening to our pastor’s words about Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” I know that you are the Good Shepherd, attentive enough to notice that I was lost, then pursue and find me, like no one else. I know that you are a Prodigal Father, demonstrating your wild love with a ring, an extravagant party, and forgiveness. I know these things, and I feel the familiar bind – somehow I can’t trust them to be true, but I also know I can’t trust myself. And then I hear the words. “You don’t need to know more about Jesus – you already have all that you need. Maybe today you need a fresh encounter with the living Christ.” He happens to be facing our direction as he speaks. The words, I am sure, are for me.

There is once again, an invitation – this time, instead of Little Norway, to the back of the room, under a richly colored mural. The walk to the back felt as interminable as that van ride, my heart filled with both longing and dread. I tried to quiet the internal angst by focusing on those who were lined up, ready to pray for people – some of them I recognized, some I did not. I silently went through each in my mind: I could trust this one, or that one, but not that one…until it was my turn…and the spot immediately in front of me – our pastor, opened up. I have never met him, he asked my name, asked if there was anything in particular he could pray for. My tears were already flowing, all I managed to get out was that I felt like he was speaking right to me about needing to encounter Jesus. And as he prayed, I knew in the deepest parts of me, that it was Jesus praying over me – the words he spoke were kind, attentive, deeply knowing and full of love.

I left that day without the heavy, knotted bind in my gut; reminded that I want to live my life as though everything is a miracle. I know that as long as there are still young parts in me that need tending, I will forget. And I also know that this wild Jesus will always call to me, “Remember.”

Janet Stark is a woman learning to bless her depth and sensitivity. She is grateful for the deep love she shares with her husband, Chris and their kids and grandkids. Janet loves curling up with a good book, trying new recipes on her friends and family, and enjoying long conversations with friends over a cup of really good coffee. She is a life-long lover of words and writes about her experiences here.

Posted by:redtentwomen

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14 replies to Remember

“And yet, the truth is my heart knows too much of how risky and foolish it is to trust, to let my guard down. There is a part of me that holds myself separate, protected, sure that my competence will be needed to save this experience from disaster.” This is one of the many places your kindred spirit touches mine. Thank you for sharing this part of your heart here. Those steps towards ourselves such courage, and I love how Jesus faithfully continues to meet us and remind us that we can trust him AND ourselves. Blessings and love to you.

Julie, thank you for your kind words, and especially the reminder of the ways our “kindred spirits” are connected. I am grateful to be in the struggle to trust Jesus more together with other courageous women like you.

I find my heart battling for a fresh encounter with Jesus that brings His true essence instead of what has been linked to Him in my childhood experiences that were filled with judgment, fear and control that are not His heart. I want a fresh encounter of Him that separates away from Him the religiosity of western Christianity and family fears and leaves my heart touched and transformed by the one who calls me a miracle and says to me that I am a very good idea, loves me and delights in me! Jesus, bring on a fresh encounter with you! I’m so hungry for it!!!

Linda, I am so with you on the ache for encounters with Jesus that heal the wounding religious experiences that demonstrated anything but love. I am so sad that you were left wondering about his love and delight in you. May you be blessed with the encounter you long for, and know how deeply and intimately loved you are.

Janet you so beautifully write what resonates so loud and clear in me – the battle to trust myself and others – yes, even Jesus. I’m always weighing the “cost” of trusting others. And the pain that may incur. Thank you for trusting us with a part of your story and a part of your heart. I felt encouraged by it.

Barbara, thank you for sharing your own struggle with the battle to trust – it does indeed feel costly and painful. I continue to love the ways this community of women can encourage each other that we are not alone in our battles. Bless you as you continue to take risks and allowing Jesus to meet you there.

Oh Janet. How much my heart feels my knotted stomach during the van ride of my first recovery week…the second guessing, talk out ofs and foolish feelings of my shop wanderings. I was so distraught, I got separated from my group and missed out on much goodness. With tears streaming down my face, how much I needed to hear the call to a “fresh encounter” with the Lover of my soul. I have been standing at such a distance…longing…but convinced I am not wanted. The simple words “thank you” do not seem adequate. How thankful I am for the tenderness of your heart to Him and for the gift of your words today. Thank you Janet my friend. Thank you. Much love to you. Christine

Christine, your words so blessed my heart. I am not surprised that we share a similar response to that experience – not surprised, and grieved at how difficult it is for you, like me, to trust in Jesus’ goodness. May you feel, deep within your beautifully tender heart, Jesus pursuing you with whispers of love just for you. Much love to you as well, my friend!

Why my tears here? I am invited to be curious…trust…Jesus’ extravagant love…good Shepherd…wild, but always kind, love…what if I am not really known and loved. Thank you for helping me name some of my own struggle and sharing how you experienced Jesus’ love.

Angela, I am so glad for the curiosity that was provoked for you. My desire in writing here is that our shared struggles will continue to offer opportunities for shared hope as well. May you know how deeply you are loved.

Janet you are good at identifying and naming your struggle. It is a gifted writer and reader of life who can do this. Thank you. I loved this; “And yet, the truth is my heart knows too much of how risky and foolish it is to trust, to let my guard down. There is a part of me that holds myself separate, protected, sure that my competence will be needed to save this experience from disaster.” If I am honest, which often I am not and don’t even recognize that I am not…I too feel this. Vigilant…trying so hard. And…yet how often what I want I cannot make the leap to know how to find or claim. So when you wrote this: ““You don’t need to know more about Jesus – you already have all that you need. Maybe today you need a fresh encounter with the living Christ.” My heart leapt inside….YES…that is what I want. Thank you. I will ask for that more and more.

Becky, thank you as always for your encouragement, and for being another person I respect and trust who responds with “me too.” I love that your heart connected with the same words mine did…and your statement about “asking for that and more” was so good…it speaks of your faith in asking that has so challenged me in my encounters with you. May you find increasing moments of rest from the vigilance. Much love to you!

The bind you brave against is a fierce one Janet. Your intuitive “knowing” is such a beautiful part of how God has formed you, and the reality that you know well the stab of betrayal and the foolishness of trusting creates a battle inside for you. When I listen or read stories of where you’ve fought hard to risk trusting for the sake of goodness, rest, blessing and redemption I want to cheer so loudly. Possibly not the ideal response in some of the quieter places where you have taken said risks 😉 I am with you in choosing to live and believe that everything is a miracle.

Tracy, I love how well you know me…and made me laugh at your “possibly not ideal” loud cheering! It is always good to know I am not alone. 😊Much love and many miraculous reminders of goodness to you, my friend!